


Oh, I Don't Love You But I Always Will

by mammothluv



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/F, Female Characters, Femslash, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 23:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mammothluv/pseuds/mammothluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith and Izzie, then and now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, I Don't Love You But I Always Will

**Author's Note:**

> Grey's Anatomy belongs to Shonda Rimes and ABC. I'm not making any profit and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Written for the Grey's Anatomy kink meme for the prompt Izzie/Meredith, in denial.

**2006**

They’re literally in a closet.

In a freakin’ closet. _Seriously._

And Izzie thinks this may just be the most ridiculous sexual situation she’s ever been in and she’s been to a lot of model parties so that’s saying something. But here they are, Meredith in nothing but her underwear, head tucked into Izzie’s shoulder, breathing hard and Izzie with her scrub pants around her ankles and one foot awkwardly wedged in someone else’s shoe because George picked the worst possible moment to come home.

And they’re _in a freaking closet._

Izzie feels hysterical giggles threatening to bubble up out of her but there’s nothing she can do to stop it. Meredith must somehow anticipate them too because suddenly her hand is clamped firmly over Izzie’s mouth and her weight is shifting, carefully, quietly, in an attempt to get them into a more comfortable position.

But somehow, in all of this shifting, Meredith’s thigh ends up between Izzie’s legs and Izzie can’t help rocking against it because, like she was just thinking, George really picked the worst possible moment to come home. And Izzie feels tightly coiled, all want and need, because Meredith sort of makes her feel like a whore in the best possible way.

But they have to be quiet now, and still, because George finding them here would possibly be worse than the forcing them into a closet in the first place. Because George would think this was a thing. It’s definitely not a thing. But he’d think it was. He’d look at them amused or even hopeful. He’d just look at them like... something. And this, this is definitely nothing.

But Izzie doesn’t have time to think about that now because Meredith has noticed Izzie’s movements and, even though it’s pitch black in here and Izzie can’t see a damn thing, Izzie knows there’s a dangerous glint in Meredith’s eye. That thought is confirmed a minute later when Meredith’s hand moves from Izzie’s mouth and settles between Izzie’s legs.

(The other hand, Izzie thinks, must be braced against a wall somewhere because Izzie’s back is against a wall but she really has no idea how Meredith’s staying upright.)

But the logistics aren’t important now that the hand that Meredith has on Izzie is sliding against her and Meredith is slipping two fingers inside her as her thumb brushes Izzie’s clit with every long stroke. And Meredith is really (like, really really) good at this. Izzie supposes she is too, surgeons hands and all. And Izzie can feel herself on the brink, muscles tightening, heat radiating through every inch of her in a dizzy rush.

A soft moan escapes her, unbidden. And Meredith covers Izzie’s lips with her own, swallowing any further sounds, bites down on Izzie’s lower lip as she quickens the pace of her fingers.

Izzie comes then, fingers digging into Meredith’s back so hard they’ll probably leave bruises (Meredith never minds.) as deep breaths leave her mouth, enter Meredith’s, and flow back again.

Izzie slides limply down the wall, then, dragging Meredith with her. Their movements knock something loose, a coat Izzie thinks, and it falls on top of them.

“We’re in a freaking closet,” Meredith says. “Seriously.”

“Seriously,” Izzie whispers, voice rough and still unsteady.

 

**2012**

Years later and Izzie doesn’t laugh as easily as she used to.

When Meredith shows up on at the door of Izzie’s Florida apartment, daughter Izzie didn’t know Meredith had in tow, Izzie isn’t expecting them but somehow she’s not entirely surprised either.

Meredith has changed too; her laughter comes easily when she’s watching Zola. Izzie sees her friend bubbling with a kind of pure joy she never quite imagined Meredith being capable of.

They meet somewhere in the middle of who they both used to be.

Meredith doesn’t say what’s wrong and Izzie doesn’t ask, instead she takes them to the store to buy a portable crib. Meredith’s brought most everything else. Then they take Zola to the park and Izzie waits at the bottom of the slide and catches Zola in her arms, feeling the solid weight of her, easily mirroring the little girl’s wide smile. It’s a distant echo of someone Izzie meant to be. They’ve only been here for hours and already it’s so easy to pretend like this could last.

It won’t.

Meredith won’t stay, won’t keep Zola from Derek, whatever it is that has gone wrong between the two of them to send Meredith to Izzie’s door. This is just a place for Meredith to catch her breath. Meredith doesn’t have it in her to leave Seattle for good. Izzie’s not sure if that means one of them is stronger. Maybe neither. Maybe they both just survive.

The night before they leave - and Izzie knows Meredith is leaving even if she hasn’t said it yet - Meredith sings Zola to sleep. The soft sounds of a lullaby make their way into Izzie’s room, spinning around the edges of her until she feels something inside her come loose. And, after, when Meredith slides in under the covers with her, Izzie thinks of closets and of tongues and fingers and the plains they traveled. But she also thinks of strawberry ice cream, and laughter, and George, and a time where things felt simple even when they weren’t.

That’s the thing with Meredith. Nothing is face value. There’s so much weight behind her.

They both have scars now, rough patches of reddened skin for fingers and tongues to travel over, years, accidents, and surgeries between them and those two girls who knew how to do this just for fun.

It’s something else now when Izzie’s fingers stumble along the inside of Meredith’s thigh and she can feel Meredith shiver beneath her, hear her name escape Meredith’s lips in a shuddering breath.

Meredith tugs on Izzie’s shoulders until Izzie’s face is hovering just above hers. Izzie kisses her like there’s every chance they’ll do this again tomorrow. She moves her lips to the right, kissing a trail along the shell of Meredith’s ear and then down her throat. Her fingers fall between Meredith’s thighs, tracing familiar patterns, memories not quite lost but blurred around the edges, softer now.

Her mouth moves lower still, her teeth grazing over Meredith’s nipple, eliciting a low gasp. Izzie stills her fingers then, trails her lips down Meredith’s stomach, which rises and falls beneath her with Meredith’s every breath. Izzie nudges Meredith’s legs further apart the, settles her face in between so Izzie’s tongue can resume the work her fingers started.

Meredith bucks beneath her, mutters something like, “faster.” Impatient as ever. But Izzie takes her time, tongue trailing slow, light figure eights until Meredith is silent, words stilling in her throat like time. She feels Meredith warm and alive underneath her tongue and it’s a promise, an apology, an understanding.

It’s not until then that Izzie speeds up, feels all of Meredith contract and release beneath her.

Later, when Meredith starts, “Izzie, I....” Izzie silences her with a kiss, warm but commanding. And Meredith understands, doesn’t continue. Instead she rests her head on Izzie’s shoulder and closes her eyes, breath warming Izzie’s bare skin.

This is what they’ve always been. Possibility.

It’s more important sometimes, Izzie thinks, than what’s real.


End file.
